The Eccentric and His Loyal Accomplices
by T. Z. Townshend
Summary: Nearly thirty years before Harry Potter's time at Hogwarts, there was another trio that was always there when something happened: Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper, and John Watson. Main Ship: Sherlolly.
1. Plot Twist

**A/N: Here we are at the beginning of my mad dive into the adventure of writing a Potterlock epic. I always wanted to write something really long and it's possible that I just might achieve it with this. My lovely followers and reviewers requested that I write more Potterlock after the few ficlettes that I did, so here you are: a multi-chap for your reading pleasure. This story begins in 1962, eight years prior to the start of Lord Voldemort's first reign of terror. I will attempt to make use of as many Sherlock characters as possible whilst fitting them as best I can into the canon Harry Potter world. This story will focus on Sherlock, Molly, and John, with Sherlolly being the main pairing. Enjoy!**

Chapter 1: Plot Twist

Molly Hooper considered herself wholly unremarkable, though she had a habit of poking at dead animals and seemed to be very good at going unnoticed. The idea that she was important and belonged somewhere was foreign to her. The matron of the girl's home where she lived was not a particularly kind or forgiving woman and had thus done nothing but encourage Molly's bleak view of herself. Imagine the eleven year old's surprise when a strange woman named Professor Sprout showed up one August afternoon at the door, asking to speak with Molly Hooper.

"Good morning. My name is Pomona Sprout. I'm a professor at a school Molly Hooper has been invited to attend." She greeted with a cheery smile. Mrs. Digby, the matron, stood there for a long moment and stared disbelievingly at the woman standing before her. She then turned to walk over to the foot of the staircase and shout to the eleven year old.

"Molly! Get down here!" A minute later, Molly came running down the stairs, her brown eyes lit up with excitement. It didn't sound like she was in trouble. Maybe someone was finally interested in taking her in. She beamed at the stocky, frizzy haired woman by the door who was smiling warmly at her.

"Hello, Molly. I'm Professor Sprout. I've come to discuss Hogwarts."

"Sorry? H-Hogwarts?"

"Yes. It's a school for boys and girls like you. Here is your letter." She took from her coat an envelope sealed with wax and handed it to Molly, who hesitantly opened it. The more she read, the wider her eyes became.

"A school...for witches and wizards?" She asked in shock. Before the professor could answer, Mrs. Digby snatched the letter from Molly's hands and scanned it with her beady blue eyes.

"What tomfoolery is this?! Is this some sick scheme?!" The matron demanded. "A school that teaches magic?! Do you honestly expect me to believe that?! Molly, if this is your idea of a joke-"

"I don't know anything about this, I swear!" Clearly Mrs. Digby didn't believe her, because she grabbed Molly by the collar and looked as if she was about to throw her across the room. Sprout acted quickly in the girl's defense.

"Please, calm down, madam. The poor girl hasn't done anything wrong. These things often happen when Muggleborns get their letters. It's perfectly understandable that you are alarmed, but there is no need to shout." The professor soothed and Mrs. Digby's anger was replaced with resigned confusion. Slowly, she let go of Molly. "Is there somewhere I can talk to Molly privately?"

"I suppose you can use my office." The matron replied and showed them through a door off the entry hall. It was the nicest Molly ever remembered Mrs. Digby being and was probably because the severe matron saw this as an opportunity to be rid of her. Professor Sprout took a seat in one of the two chairs in front of Mrs. Digby's desk and gestured for Molly to take the other one. The creaking of the old wooden seat did nothing to calm her nerves.

"Um, what does Muggleborn mean, professor?" she asked. Her mind was overwhelmed with questions and that was the only one that was able to make it out of her coherently.

"It's the term for a witch or wizard who was born to Muggle parents and Muggle is our word for a non-magic person."

"But how can I be...a witch? I'm not special o-or talented and I certainly don't know anything about magic." She was just dull, quiet, mediocre Molly. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Ah, but you are, Molly. Have you ever made something happen that you couldn't explain?"

"Well, one time, a girl at school was chasing me and I fell, but she ran right past me like she couldn't see me lying there. She thought I'd run around the corner."

"There you are, then. You're a witch, Molly, and if you'd like, you can come to school at Hogwarts and learn how to control your powers." It was too good to be true, in Molly's opinion, to suddenly be given an extraordinary chance to get away from this place. It was a nice dream, so Molly decided that she would go along with it for however long it lasted.

"I don't want to seem rude or anything, but why did the school send you to talk to me?" Fortunately, Professor Sprout seemed to know what Molly meant by that.

"Oh, well, they seem to think you're likely to be sorted into Hufflepuff and I'm Hufflepuff's Head of House. I must say, I think they're right. You'd fit in nicely." The plump woman answered, sounding a little excited. Unfortunately, Molly was even more baffled than she was before.

"Hufflepuff?"

"That's one of the four houses at Hogwarts. The other three are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. You're not a Slytherin. I can see that clear as day."

"Oh, um, okay... There was a list of things I need for school with my letter, like a cauldron and a wand. I don't know where to find any of that stuff. And I need to get to King's Cross Station to get on the train for school, but I don't have a way of getting there." As Molly spoke, she began to realize just how many problems she was going to have in preparing for school and it was overwhelming. Professor Sprout gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder.

"Don't you worry, dear. A wizarding family has graciously agreed to help you there. Mr. Holmes will come and get you on Saturday to take you to Diagon Alley so you can get your things. He has a little brother who's beginning at Hogwarts this year as well, so there will be someone your own age with you." She consoled. Molly gave her a nervous smile in return. "Do you have any other questions?" In truth, the young girl had many, many questions swirling around in her head, but she couldn't think of a single one that didn't make her feel silly.

"No, ma'am." She answered meekly.

"Well, in that case, I better be off. It was lovely meeting you, Molly. I look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts in September."

"It was wonderful meeting you too," Molly said as Professor Sprout got up from her own creaky chair. The plump witch shook her hand and made for the door. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, dear. Remember, Mr. Mycroft Holmes will be coming to collect you this Saturday at precisely eight o'clock, and I mean _precisely_. That young man has a very strong sense of punctuality." With that, she was gone and Molly was left sitting in Mrs. Digby's office, wondering if any of what she had just experienced was real. Over the next few days, she read and reread her letter many times and even took to carrying it with her around the girl's home, just to remind herself that she wasn't going mad and that she was indeed a witch bound for a school that taught such people. The other girls didn't know what to make of it all. A few of them who believed it started calling her a freak. Others called her a liar or simply stopped acknowledging her all together. Molly tried not to let it get her down. Instead, she spent her time daydreaming about the world she would soon be a part of. She had no idea what it would be like, but she had a lot of fun making it up.

On Saturday morning, Molly got up at the crack of dawn to get ready for Mycroft Holmes' arrival. She quietly slipped out of her bunk and dressed herself in her best clothes. Of course, her best clothes weren't much. Her jumper and skirt were worn and faded and her shoes were rather beat up (though she did spend an hour cleaning the mud off them). She stowed her Hogwarts letter in the pocket she'd sown to the inside of her jumper and got herself a bit of toast before going to sit on the bottom step of the staircase to anxiously await the man who would take her to a place called Diagon Alley, wherever that was. Mrs. Digby appeared not much later out of her office door to scold Molly about eating toast in the entry hall. The matron thought this entire matter was complete madness, but she had stopped questioning it for the simple reason that it would get troublesome, unnatural Molly Hooper away from the girl's home for most of the year and she didn't have to foot any of the bill. That was good enough for her. Despite her acceptance of the situation, however, Mrs. Digby seemed to have decided that no witch or wizard was worth her respect, thus making it imperative for her to be rude when Mycroft Holmes arrived with his little brother.

Just as Professor Sprout had said, the wizard came through the front door of the girl's home at exactly eight o'clock, an eleven year old boy in tow. Both pairs of shockingly blue eyes immediately looked to her.

"You must be Molly Hooper. I am Mycroft Holmes and this is my younger brother, Sherlock." The man greeted. His accent was posh and he annunciated every word with precision. Molly had only ever heard anyone talk that way on television and suddenly felt even more timid than usual. She slowly stood up and approached the two wizards. Sherlock seemed to be silently scrutinizing her appearance, which she supposed was only natural given that he and his brother were both dressed impeccably.

"Can we go now, brother? This place reeks of bad cooking and sick." The boy complained and Mrs. Digby must have heard him because she came down the stairs, pushing past the girls observing Molly's visitors from the railing above.

"Oi! You two take Molly and go. I don't want your sort hanging around here." She snapped, her eyes narrowing as she pointed a stubby finger at Mr. Holmes.

"We were just leaving." He replied coolly. "Come along, Ms. Hooper." Without need for further prompting, Molly hastily and eagerly followed the Holmes brothers out. In the street, there was a car waiting for them, which they quickly climbed into. Molly had only been in a car twice before, so this added to the excitement of the situation. Mycroft directed the driver to take them somewhere called the Leaky Cauldron before turning back to look at the pair of eleven year olds sitting across from him. "I'm sorry, Ms. Hooper, but that is a _dreadful_ place to call home. It's a miracle that you've survived this long."

"It's alright, Mr. Holmes. I can't tell you how glad I am to be getting away from there, if only for a little while." Molly responded, feeling slightly less awkward. The corners of Mycroft's lips twitched into a brief smile. "Um, Sherlock. You're starting at Hogwarts this year too, yeah? Are you excited?" Molly turned to the boy sitting next to her who seemed to be in a rather poor mood. He didn't even look at her and continued to stared out the window when he spoke.

"What's there to be excited about? I might be getting away from Mycroft's nagging, but I'll have to suffer _rules_ and live a structured life for the next seven years." Sherlock grumbled and his elder brother grimaced.

"You'll have to forgive my brother's attitude. Magic isn't anything new to him and he considers school to be more of a limitation on a his will to learn than a liberation of it."

"Oh! He must be very, very smart, then." This succeeded in finally grabbing Sherlock's attention and earning Molly a proper smile from Mycroft.

"Yes, he is. You are of uncommon intelligence yourself, I seems. No doubt you've read every book you could get your hands on. I see why my mother chose to sponsor you of all of the Muggleborns this year." He told her and Sherlock stared at her blankly, the latter unnerving her a little. After a moment, he seemed to lose interest and looked out the window for the rest of the car ride. "Ah! Here we are." Mycroft announced when they'd pulled up outside an inn labelled the Leaky Cauldron. "If you can see an inn in front of you, Ms. Hooper, you need not have any further doubts about whether or not you are a witch." Judging by the grin on Molly's face, he knew that she could see it. They all climbed out of the car and entered the Leaky Cauldron. It was packed with all sorts of oddly dressed people and as they passed through to the back, Molly swore she could see someone's knife cutting a piece of steak by itself. She followed the Holmes brothers through another door that lead them to a small, walled in courtyard occupied only by a dustbin at the back. Mycroft promptly approached it and detached the handle of his umbrella to reveal a wand. "Watch carefully, Ms. Hooper. You will need to remember this in the future." He traced his wand over the bricks in the wall, going up three from the dustbin and two across, then firmly tapped the brick there. A second later, the bricks began to move and form an archway on the other side of which was a bustling street of witches and wizards. Molly stood there a moment and gazed in awe at the sight before her. Sherlock seemed completely unimpressed and unceremoniously pushed past her to step into Diagon Alley.

"Come on. We haven't got all day." He called and she obediently followed, still with an expression of amazement plastered across her face. She didn't know where to look first. Diagon Alley was a feast for her eyes that made her burn with curiosity.

"It's best if you stay close to me. Both of you. Small children are easily lost in this sort of crowd." Mycroft cautioned. Molly listened to him without question, but Sherlock didn't pay him much mind and walked a few yards ahead of them. "We'll go to Ollivander's first and get your wands. Then we'll get your school robes sorted at Twillfit and Tattings and- what's the matter, Ms. Hooper?" Molly had suddenly stopped and stood frozen in and expression of horror and embarrassment.

"I-I haven't got any money. How am I supposed to pay for everything I need?"

"No need to worry. I'll pay for everything." Mycroft assured her, relieved that there wasn't an actual problem.

"Oh, no! I couldn't possibly-"

"It's fine. It's all part of sponsoring you." He pressed and she relented, though somewhat reluctantly. They made their way to Ollivander's Wand Shop. The peeling gold lettering above the door read 'Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.' and Molly gaped, never having heard of a business being around so long. They stepped inside and were soon greeted by a thin old man with wild eyes.

"Ah! Mr. Mycroft Holmes- Alder, 14 inches, dragon heartstring, nice and sturdy. Good to see you again, and with a pair of young students looking to buy their first wands, I see. Wonderful," the man who could only be Ollivander said excitedly. Mycroft gave him a courteous smile in return.

"This is my younger brother, Sherlock, and Molly Hooper, a Muggleborn we're sponsoring. I think you had better place Ms. Hooper first as I have a feeling my brother will be even more difficult than I was."

"I see. Very well. Come over here, my dear, and we will begin." She nervously came to stand in the spot he indicated and a measuring tape began to measure her all on its own. Ollivander went to take an armful of thin boxes from the shelves and place them on the desk beside Molly. He handed her a wand and told her to give it a wave. She did so and nothing happened. Before she had time to express her bewilderment, Ollivander snatched the wand from her and gave her another one much longer and darker in color. She waved it and it emitted a loud bang. This was apparently not what the wandmaker was looking for, because he took that one from her as well. After another five wands, he handed her a medium sized one of a rich, golden color. When she twirled it, a stream of shimmering, pink bubbles came from the end and Ollivander smiled. "Pear, 12 ¼ inches, unicorn hair, supple. That is the wand of a good natured witch, Ms. Hooper. It will serve you well."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Ollivander." Molly replied with a broad grin.

"You are most welcome." Mycroft promptly paid the wandmaker for Molly's wand and nudged his little brother forward. "Ah, Mr. Holmes the Younger. Where to start with you...I think it's best we stick to the rarer woods." With his own suggestions in mind, Ollivander set to work. As Mycroft had predicted, it took ages to find the right wand for Sherlock. By the time the boy was handed a very long black one, Ollivander had nearly had his eyebrows burnt off several times. With a swish of this last wand, a shower of silver sparks shot out of it in a rather beautiful display, signifying that it had chosen Sherlock. "Very fitting for an uncommon fellow like yourself." The wandmaker commented. "Ebony, 16 inches, dragon heartstring, quite unyielding. It's curious that I sold it's brother only yesterday to another young wizard. Spruce, 13 inches, dragon heartstring from the very same dragon that gave the core of your wand. I think we can expect interesting things from both of you." Sherlock did not seem particularly surprised or enthralled by the wandmaker's words, but Molly listened with rapt interest. It was to be expected, given that all of this was so new to her. Mycroft paid for his brother's wand and they went on their way to the next part of her extraordinary day.

"For this stop, I'm afraid we're going to need to perform a bit of deception. You see, Twillfit and Tattings is a rather upscale establishment with certain attitudes about Muggleborns and less wealthy people."

"Oh." Molly breathed, suddenly feeling like an enormous burden on the Holmeses.

"Don't fret. I will simply make your clothes look newer and refer to you as our cousin." He waved his wand and Molly's clothes looked for a moment like they were going back in time, reversing every bit of damage that had been done to them over the years. Molly's smile returned and the trio entered the shop. Madam Twillfit greeted Mycroft cheerly, though her smile faltered when she caught sight of Molly.

"And who might this be?" the seamstress asked, narrowing her eyes in scrutiny. Clearly she did not approve of Molly's taste in clothing.

"This is our cousin, Molly Hooper. She'll be needing school robes like Sherlock." In moments, Molly found herself standing perfectly still while her robes sewed themselves around her. The same was being done for Sherlock (who seemed bored out of his mind) and another girl, who was staring at Molly.

"If they are your family, they aren't taking very good care of you, letting you wear such a terrible jumper. And your shoes, they're not even proper girl's shoes. Everything about you is tacky, right down to your horrible little pigtails. I can't imagine why Madam Twillfit let you in here." The girl sneered and Molly frowned at her. What had she done to deserve such rude remarks? Molly looked anxiously over at Mycroft as if to ask for help, but he was busy talking to the rude girl's parents.

"If there is anything wrong here it's your ill manner. Of course, I would expect nothing less from a girl who kicks her father in the shin when he objects to buying her all the sweets she wants." Sherlock finally spoke up and looked over to glare at the girl who was being nasty to Molly.

"Mummy, Mummy! This boy is being mean to me!" She whined, catching the attention of both her parents and Sherlock's elder brother, the latter of whom let out the sigh of a person who has had to deal with this sort of thing many times.

"What did you say to my daughter?" The mother demanded, gazing down at Sherlock indignantly. The boy was completely unfazed.

"Madam, your child is a menace." Sherlock told her flatly and Mycroft scowled at him.

"Well! Of all the impertinent things! Good day, Mr. Holmes. Do teach your brother to be civil."

"I'm very sorry, Mrs. Rilliant. I've tried, but Sherlock is a problem child if I ever saw one. Good day." Mycroft apologized as the unmannerly family left in a hurry. He then turned to continue scowling at Sherlock while the finishing touches on the eleven year olds' robes were sewn. As his brother spoke with Madam Twillfit about payment for the robes, Sherlock's striking gaze fell on Molly.

"Why did you let her insult you like that?" he asked.

"It's alright. I'm used to verbal abuse. Besides, I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of seeing me upset or behave rudely myself. Thank you for defending me, though, even if you weren't very nice."

"I was only being honest. She was irritating and I wanted her gone. It had nothing to do with aiding you." Sherlock replied coldly before following his brother out of the shop. It was the first time in a long while that Molly had felt genuinely hurt by someone's lack of concern for her. She tried not to let it show, but she did seem to lose some enthusiasm for this adventure and Mycroft noticed.

"I take it my dear brother has said something to dampen your mood, Ms. Hooper." He commented as he led her over to a selection of trunks in the next shop they visited. "You should know that you are actually doing marvelously. Most people, adults and children alike, would be tearing their hair out by now. Of course, your resistance may owe in no small part to the fact that Sherlock has been remarkably quiet on this trip so far, particularly to you. I think we can safely take that it is a sign that he likes you in some small way. That is nothing to sneeze at, considering the way he treats almost everyone." Molly found these words to be very encouraging and the spark of excitement returned to her features. She spent the rest of the trip in high spirits and did not allow Sherlock's attitude to dishearten her. Mycroft was so pleased by the way things were going that when they were done with the shopping, he took them to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. This seemed to cure a portion of his little brother's mood and made Molly very happy.

When it came time to leave and they had all piled back into the car in front of the Leaky Cauldron, Molly Hooper's wide smile began to fade as she started to realize that in only a half an hour, she would be back at the girl's home and away from amazing things and the Holmes brothers who had treated her so much better than anyone at home.

"Be up early and ready to go on September 1st, Ms. Hooper. We will be coming to collect you for the train to Hogwarts. In the meantime, be careful and don't try to perform any magic." Mycroft informed her as they pulled up in front of the girl's home.

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes. You've been very kind to me." Molly replied with a nod. The wizard gave her a polite smile in return before ordering his brother to help Molly get her trunk out of the boot of the car. Sherlock grudgingly complied and seemed puzzled by the warm way the girl looked at him as he helped her.

"My brother thinks you'll be a Ravenclaw, you know. He's wrong. You'll be in Hufflepuff." He told her blankly.

"Well, uh, your not the first one to say that. Thank you for helping with my trunk. I'll see you soon." Sherlock only quirked an eyebrow and went back to the car in response. Molly watched the Holmeses drive away and she felt strange, like she'd just fully realized that her life was about to drastically change.

**A/N: So, what do you think? Have I started off well, or should I scrap this? I chose the make up of the wands very carefully and I wonder if anyone can guess who Sherlock's wand's brother belongs to. The wood is a major clue. Anyway, I hope you like this. ~T.Z.**


	2. Hooper, Molly

**A/N: Hey there! Thank you all so much for the encouraging reviews! I've finally brought you the next chapter you've all been waiting for. It took me a bit longer than I expected, but there you are. I hope this lives up to your expectations.**

Chapter 2: Hooper, Molly

For the week and a half between her trip to Diagon Alley and the first day of school, Molly Hooper spent the majority of her time in her bunk, reading the fascinating books she'd gotten for school. She actually read a few of them twice simply because she found them so interesting. She avoided interaction with the other residents of the girl's home and immersed her mind in the world of magic, effectively keeping up her spirits until she was due to leave. That day could not come soon enough, in her opinion. At dawn on September 1st, Molly sat on the front steps of the girl's home with her trunk and waited for the Holmes brothers to arrive. She hoped they got there before Mrs. Digby awoke, went into the kitchen, and realized that there were two apples missing from the bowl. Part of the reason Molly was already outside was so that she couldn't be thrown out to the curb. Just as she heard the kitchen door slam inside, her ride rolled up and she moved as quickly as she could to herself and her things in the car.

"You're in quite a hurry, Ms. Hooper." Mycroft commented as he looked at his fob watch. Before answering, Molly glanced through the back window at the rapidly shrinking girl's home.

"Mrs. Digby'll be cross that I took a couple of her beloved apples. I didn't want to stick around and get beaten." The girl explained, relaxing in her seat. Sherlock seemed somewhat less bored next to her than last time, but he still didn't looked at her or say a word.

"You should note that if I hear of you receiving any such treatment at Hogwarts, action will be taken." Mycroft told her sternly, seemingly disgusted by the idea that Molly had been beaten at home. She beamed back at him. Then she was distracted by a tiny squeaking noise and looked over to see that Sherlock had something light brown and furry in his hand.

"Is that a mouse?" she asked.

"His name is Basil." Sherlock informed her, setting the little rodent on his leg, only to have it scurry onto the sleeve of Molly's jumper and up to her shoulder. She didn't scream or act frightened in any way. In fact, she giggled and reached up to gently pet Basil, which he seemed to like. "Interesting," was all Sherlock had to say about it and the rest of the car ride was spent watching Basil explore the back seat.

When they arrived at King's Cross Station, Basil went in Sherlock's jacket pocket and they put their trunks on trollies. For a minute, Molly was very confused about the station. She could see there was a Platform 9 and a Platform 10, but no Platform 9 ¾ in between. She asked Sherlock why that was and he only rolled his eyes and strode directly towards the barrier in front of them. Molly's breath hitched as she thought he was going to crash, but he disappeared. She gaped and looked to Mycroft, who smiled down at her.

"Better hurry. The train will be leaving soon."

"So I just...I just walk confidently into the barrier and I'll find the train?"

"Precisely. Now, off you go. Good luck and do remind my brother to write every so often." Molly nodded at this and said goodbye before walking straight for the barrier. Suddenly, she found herself on Platform 9 ¾. There was a crowd of students and parents and a red train labelled 'Hogwarts Express'. She couldn't see Sherlock anywhere. He was probably already on the train. It took her a bit to find his compartment. He was alone and he looked up at her when she came in, seemingly peeved to have his solitude disturbed.

"Um, is it alright if I sit with you? I don't want to bother you, but it's just that I don't know anyone else here and I know you won't make fun of me for being odd. I'm probably bothering you. I'll just go and-"

"It's fine." Sherlock told her and helped her lift her trunk onto the shelf above the seats. Molly blushed and sat down to watch the train leave the station. Parents waved their children goodbye and Molly felt a pang of sadness as she imagined her dad waving at her.

"I wonder what it's like to have someone to wave to." She mused and Sherlock scoffed.

"It's nothing special." He grumbled and took Basil out of his pocket to place him on the seat beside him. "I take it you've read all your textbooks already." Molly perked up at this and nodded fervently.

"Yeah, I've been dying to try some of the spells, but your brother said it's best if I don't until I start classes."

"To hell with what Mycroft says. You can have a go now, if you like. It's not illegal here." Sherlock took out his own wand and looked at Molly expectantly. "You first, then." With a cautious excitement, the girl drew her wand and waved it, muttering _lumos_. A light appeared at the end of her wand and she grinned. After a moment, she said _nox_ and the light died. Sherlock then made a precise motion with his own wand and very clearly stated the words _wingardium leviosa_. Basil began to float in the air, squeaking indignantly as he went. Sherlock let the poor mouse down on Molly's lap after having him do a few circuits of the compartment.

"That's brilliant!" she exclaimed and Sherlock smirked. It was the first time she'd seen him smile and she found herself entranced by it. Now that she thought about it, there was something unusually beautiful about the way he looked that reached beyond age. "I bet you've memorized nearly all the spells in our textbooks."

"Yes, I have. We'll have access to more books in the Hogwarts library, which by all accounts is quite extensive." Sherlock told her and her cheeks hurt with the width of her grin. She'd never met anyone like him, so clever and passionate about learning.

"I suspect I'll be spending a lot of my free time there, then."

"Likewise." This was met with a comfortable silence that lasted a long while. Molly played with Basil while Sherlock lay across the seat and stared up at the ceiling, his hands steepled under his chin.

"Anything off the trolly, dears?" a woman asked them, interrupting the quiet of the compartment in the middle of the afternoon. Molly shook her head, holding up an apple with a sad smile. Even if she did want something off the trolly, she couldn't pay for it. Just as that thought occurred to her, Sherlock stood up and retrieved a few gold coins from his pocket to hand to the woman. He bought an armload of food, half of which he gave to Molly. She gaped at him and sputtered a flustered thank you.

"I can't eat all of these chocolate frogs by myself." He told her simply before opening one of said chocolate frogs. Molly watched in amazement as the chocolate came to life and attempted to escape Sherlock like a real frog. He swiftly caught it as it jumped and popped it in his mouth. Molly's expression caused him to frown. "Oh, right. Food doesn't do that in the Muggle world, does it. Your life must have been unbearably boring before." He then moved on to look at the card that had been included in the chocolate frog package. "Ugh, Merlin _again_. Molly, let me know who you get. It might be one I don't have." At first, the girl was bewildered by this, but after successfully capturing and eating her own chocolate frog, she looked at the card and figured out that these had famous witches and wizards on them.

"I've got Ulric the Oddball."

"I'll swap you." They traded cards and Molly examined Merlin, who looked just as she had imagined him to from the Arthurian Legends she'd read.

"Oh my goodness! I think Merlin just winked at me!"

"Pictures are another thing that don't move in the Muggle world, I see. Really, how _did_ you survive this long without dying of boredom?" Before Molly could answer that, the door opened and a blond boy stuck his head in.

"Excuse me, but my sister and her friends are being complete tossers and I want to get a way from them. Mike Stamford said this compartment wasn't full. Is it alright if I sit with you?" he asked and Molly was inclined to tell him yes right away, but she wasn't sure how Sherlock would feel about that, so she waited for his response. There was a long moment in which Sherlock seemed to be scanning the boy before he answered.

"You may sit with us."

"Thanks," the blond said, smiling and taking a seat next to Molly, "I'm John Watson, by the way."

"Hi, John. I'm Molly Hooper and this is Sherlock Holmes."

"Nice to meet you."

"Same here. Would you like a chocolate frog?" Molly offered John one of the pentagonal packages and he accepted it gratefully. "Sherlock, what exactly are these?" She held up a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"Those are assorted jelly beans of every possible flavor under the sun. I've been cataloguing the number of different flavors I've come across. If you try some, let me know what you get so that I can add them to the list." He replied before taking a bite of a pumpkin pasty.

"Oh! I've got Godric Gryffindor on my chocolate frog card. Harry'll be so mad. She's been after his card for ages." John piped up with a satisfied grin. Molly giggled and examined a green jelly bean, debating with herself as to whether or not she should try it. In the end, she bit off half of it. It only took her a moment to be coughing and panting from the spiciness of the bean.

"Ah, you seem to have stumbled upon a wasabi bean. Bad luck, that. The green ones are always interesting. They have so many possibilities." Sherlock commented casually, taking up a white bean and sniffing it before handing it to Molly. "I think this one's some kind of dairy flavor. It'll help with the heat." Sure enough, he was right and Molly calmed down significantly after eating the white bean. The atmosphere in the compartment continued to be friendly, though it had begun to rain rather heavily outside. Both Sherlock and Molly grew rather fond of John in their time on the train. He seemed to be a funny, compassionate boy and he was the second person Sherlock had met in the short span of a week and a half who actually liked him. Molly felt the similarly and John was glad to have found two people who weren't utter prats.

Shortly before arriving at Hogsmeade Station, they changed into their uniforms and Sherlock placed Basil back in his pocket. They were told to leave their luggage on the train and they congregated with the other first years around a tall, broad man who introduced himself as Ogg. He led the throng of eleven year olds to the edge of the Black Lake, where a number of boats were tied. Sherlock, John, and Molly climbed into one together and the boats began to float across the lake all on their own. Only Sherlock wasn't dazzled.

"This is a bit overly theatrical," he said flatly, but the other two weren't really paying him much mind. They were too busy looking at the lights of Hogwarts Castle ahead. Before long, they had been led by Ogg to a pair of enormous doors inside the castle and left there with the instruction to wait quietly for Professor McGonagall. "Do they really think it wise to leave a bunch of eleven year olds alone for any length of time?" Sherlock grumbled as he watched a boy put gum on the inside of a girl's hood.

"You should have more faith in people." John told him sternly and he raised his eyebrows.

"Clearly you aren't paying attention. People are vile." Before John could reply to this, a thin witch who wore her hair in a tight bun appeared at the top of the staircase.

"Good evening. I am Professor McGonagall. Behind these doors is the Great Hall, where you will each be sorted into one of the four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. While you are here, your house will be your family. Your successes will be shared, as will your failures. The house which enjoys the most success will, at the end of the year, be awarded the House Cup. Now, we are ready for you to join us for the ceremony." The doors opened to reveal a grand hall. There were four long tables lined up perpendicular to the doors and one at the head of them all where the headmaster and teachers sat. The first years filed in and the other students peered around at them. Molly suddenly felt very anxious.

"You see that old hat on that stool in front of the headmaster's seat? That's the Sorting Hat. Your name gets called and you put it on and it says what house you aught to be in. Apparently it sings a song at the start of every year. At least, that's what my sister told me." John whispered to Molly and she gave him a nervous smile in return. Sure enough, a rip appeared in the hat like a mouth and it began to sing.

"_I may be old and ratty,_

_But I'm a smart hat, you'll see,_

_The founders four enchanted me,_

_To tell where you aught to be._

_For those of bravery and daring,_

_There is the house of Gryffindor,_

_He who thought that magic learning,_

_Was for those courageous at core._

_Or perhaps you'd like to be,_

_Welcomed into Hufflepuff,_

_Where loyalty and kindness are key,_

_And never mind the other stuff._

_It might be you find your friends,_

_In the knowledge of scroll and tome,_

_Then in Ravenclaw your search ends,_

_For there you'll find your true home._

_If power is what you really desire,_

_And use your wit and charm to win,_

_A chance for a position much higher,_

_You might find you belong in Slytherin."_

The hall erupted in applause when the Sorting Hat finished singing. A few people complained that this year's song had been rather short, but then the room fell quiet again.

"Now, I will call you up one at a time and place the hat on your head. The hat will then tell us which house is to be yours." Professor McGonagall announced as she unrolled a scroll. "Adler, Irene." A pretty, dark haired girl came and sat on the stool for the hat to be placed on her head. A moment later, it shouted it decision.

"Slytherin!" The girl smirked and the Slytherin table cheered. It didn't take long for Professor McGonagall to get through the rest of the A's and the B-G's before coming to the H's, which made Molly nervous again. What if the hat shouted that she was an imposter who didn't really belong here? What if she woke up to find that this was all a dream and she was really lying in her bunk back at the girl's home?

"Holmes, Sherlock." The mention of his name seemed to catch the attention of some of the older students, particularly among the Ravenclaws. They had probably known his brother. Molly gave him an encouraging thumbs up as he went to sit on the stool.

"Ah, another Holmes. I know just where you should go." The hat murmured in his ear and he gritted his teeth.

"If you put me in the same house as my father, I'll rip you to shreds. You know where I truly belong, you just don't want to put me there because you like tradition." Sherlock shot back.

"Like your brother, then, are you? And with even more conviction. You might do well in Slytherin...but no. You are very much a Ravenclaw." The hat announced this and the Ravenclaw table gave an unusually enthusiastic response. When Sherlock hopped off the seat, he gave a self-satisfied grin and proceeded to the Ravenclaw table.

"Hooper, Molly." That was it. Her name had finally been called and her knees wobbled as she approached the stool. She sat down and the hat was placed on her head.

"Interesting." The hat began. "Where to put you...you've a fair bit of courage in you and a strong thirst for knowledge, but with a heart so full of kindness, I think the best place for you is Hufflepuff." The hat was lifted from her head and all she could hear was people cheering for her and welcoming her to their ranks as she deftly walked to their table with a huge grin on her face. She had made it. She finally belonged and it was _real_.

Molly watched the rest of the sorting, still with that bright smile fixed on her features. There was an interesting sequence of names about halfway through: Moran, Sebastian (Gryffindor), Moriarty, James (Slytherin), and Morstan, Mary (Ravenclaw). Second to last came John, who took all of about five seconds to be sorted into Gryffindor. He was then followed by Wilkes, Sebastian, who went to Slytherin. Molly was a little disappointed that neither of her friends were in the same house as her, but she didn't let it dampen her mood. The headmaster stood up at the end of the sorting ceremony, quieting everyone down again.

"Welcome all to another year at Hogwarts. To those first years who do not know me, I am Albus Dumbledore, your headmaster. I would like to begin by introducing you to our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Hope." He paused to allow the students to clap for the funny looking, bespectacled man he gestured to at the teachers' table. "He has graciously agreed to try his hand at the position. Mr. Pringle, our caretaker, would like me to remind you that the forest is out of bounds to all students and that a fresh list of banned objects has been posted. Now, I'm sure you're all tired and hungry, so I'll let you tuck in." With these last words, copious amounts of food appeared on the tables and Molly was overwhelmed by seeing so many things to eat in one place. She didn't know where to begin, so she just got herself a little bit of everything. A girl sitting next to her introduced herself as Meena and they became fast friends. It wasn't too long before dessert appeared and Meena had to help her decide what to eat. Just as she was reaching for a piece of cake, a silvery, translucent little man popped up through the pudding. Molly's breath hitched in her throat and a few other first years screamed.

"Hello! I'm the Hufflepuff House Ghost. It's a pleasure to see new faces at this table." He greeted cheerily, a wide grin on his face.

"Oh my God, oh my God! Ghosts are _real_." Molly gasped and Meena frowned.

"Well, of course they- oh! You must be a Muggleborn. That's perfectly understandable, then. Don't worry, the ghosts at Hogwarts are friendly. Especially the Fat Friar there. The only one you've got to watch out for is Peeves. He's a poltergeist." Meena explained and Molly relaxed a little. She looked around at the Ravenclaw table, searching for Sherlock. She hoped he wasn't dying of boredom. As it turned out, he was talking to another, older boy who appeared to be amused by whatever Sherlock was saying. It made Molly smile to know he was doing fine. "Who are you looking at? Ah, isn't that Sherlock Holmes? His brother, Mycroft, was Head Boy last year, you know. I wonder if they're anything alike."

"No, they're very different." Molly responded with a laugh and Meena raised her eyebrows.

"You know them?"

"Yeah, they helped me get everything sorted for school, since I'm, er, Muggleborn. Sherlock's brilliant, but he's not really one for convention and he's a bit too honest. He bought me sweets on the train, though, so I guess he sometimes tries to make up for it."

"Sounds like you fancy him." Meena teased.

"What? No!" Molly shot back and they both started to laugh. She finished her piece of cake and not much later, the Hufflepuffs were guided by prefects down to the basement. They came to a corridor that had a stack of large barrels at the end.

"First years, the way to gain access to the common room is to tap this barrel in the rhythm of 'Helga Hufflepuff'. Like so." The prefect demonstrated by tapping the barrel two from the bottom, middle of the second row. This had the effect of causing the barrels to shift until a tunnel was revealed. The Hufflepuffs filed in and on the other side, there was a cozy, low ceilinged room decorated in the house colors of yellow and black. A happy fire crackled in the hearth and various potted plants were scattered around the place. Molly let out a happy sigh, having finally found her true home.

**A/N: So, we have some interesting developments here. Initially, I was going to delay introducing John, but it just didn't seem right. Also, I wonder how many of you caught the silly reference I made during the sorting scene. If everything works out the way I want it to, the next chapter will be more interesting and rather humorous. Thoughts? ~T.Z.**


	3. A Rough Start

**A/N: I am so so sorry for making you all wait this long for an update. I never planned for it to take this long. I hit a particularly rough patch in my life, so I really appreciate you sticking with me. Thank you for all the feedback. I'm a little nervous about this chapter, but I hope you enjoy it.**

**WARNING: This chapter contains implied and more than implied bullying.**

Chapter 3: A Rough Start

The last thing Molly Hooper needed at the moment was to hear Sherlock grumble about the weight of textbooks as they ran down to the dungeons, heading for Potions. They were late because Basil had smelled a dropped bit of food and had leapt out of Sherlock's pocket to go after it. They spent ten minutes chasing down Basil before finally catching him and continuing on their way to the dungeons. They arrived in Potions class just as Professor Slughorn was starting and they quietly took the two open spots at the back.

"In this class, you will be learning the art of potion making. It's not something you should take lightly. Done right, a potion can do many good things. It can heal, fortify, medicate, and save those an inch from death. Done wrong or with wrong intentions, a potion can cause all sorts of harm from singed hair to instant death." Slughorn began as his eyes scanned the class of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw first years. He saw that Molly and Sherlock had arrived and realizing who they must be, ticked them off as present on his list. "Now, this year, you'll be learning the basic concepts of potion making and how to concoct a few simple things. I have some them over here." He gestured to a table that had three cauldrons simmering away set upon it. "Come. Gather round." Everyone got up to come closer to the table, though Sherlock was rather slow about it due to boredom. "Can anybody tell me what these are?" Molly and a couple of Ravenclaw girls raised their hands. Slughorn chose Molly.

"The first two are a Cure for Boils and Forgetfulness Potion, but um, I'm not sure about the last one. I don't think it's in our textbook." This earned her a warm smile from the professor.

"Excellent! Quite right, the last one is not in your textbook. It's the Draught of Living Death, which you will be learning about, but not making. Well spotted, Ms. Hooper. Five points to Hufflepuff." At this, Molly had to stop herself from letting out a squeak of excitement. Not only had she gotten everything right, she'd earned praise and points for her house. Sherlock rolled his eyes at her, but she seemed to have attracted the attention of another Ravenclaw boy who was gazing at her as if she was a particularly beautiful unicorn. He blushed when she made eye contact with him and he immediately hid himself behind a tall Hufflepuff boy, though she could still see the crown of his wavy blond mop over the other boy's shoulder. For the rest of the class, the blond Ravenclaw boy stole glances at her and she found herself feeling flustered about it.

After class, when Molly was walking with Sherlock, he seemed to notice her state and sighed in annoyance.

"That boy who was staring at you all through class, his name's Gilderoy Lockhart and he is a complete blithering idiot. I don't understand how he was sorted into Ravenclaw. In any case, I wouldn't recommend developing any sort of sickly sweet affections for him." He told her flatly, earning him a deep scowl from Molly.

"That's presumptuous and unfair, Sherlock." She shot back. The boy only raised an eyebrow at her in reply. As they crossed the Entrance Hall, they spotted John Watson running down the stairs toward them.

"Oi! Sherlock! Molly!" he called as he caught sight of them. "Wait until you have Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Hope is barking mad and creepy to boot. How were your classes?" The Gryffindor fell into step with his friends as they entered the Great Hall and Molly chattered about Professor McGonagall turning herself into a cat and back and earning points from Professor Slughorn. Sherlock maintained an annoyed silence until the three of them went to their separate house tables to eat lunch.

"Hello, Molly. How was you're morning with Sherlock?" Meena greeted, wiggling her eyebrows as she said Sherlock's name.

"Well, he was irritable the whole time and I had to help him chase after his mouse, Basil, between Transfiguration and Potions." Molly admitted with a resigned sigh. "I'll be with him again this afternoon for Flying class. I'm really excited for that. I can't believe I'm going to learn how to fly." That elation showed quite clearly on the young girl's features. Meena laughed at her bobbing in her seat.

"The fact that Muggleborns get so excited about normal everyday stuff will never stop making me smile. Flying's easy, you've just got to not over think it." Meena told Molly with a dismissive wave of her hand. It did nothing to calm Molly's overexcitement. All through Charms, John couldn't help but notice that his friend was quivering with anticipation. When the class ended, her goodbye to John was rather brief before she practically skipped to the training grounds. Madam Hooch had lain two rows of brooms facing each other on the ground and instructed the Hufflepuff first years to take one side while the Ravenclaws took the other. Across from Molly, Sherlock looked incredibly bored. She seemed to recall him saying something about already having learned how to fly after getting his hands on his elder brother's broom when he was nine.

"Right, now position yourselves on the left side of your broomstick, hold out your hand, and very confidently say 'Up!'" Madam Hooch said and the first years promptly trying to command the brooms into flying up into their hands.

"Up." Sherlock ordered casually, a lazy expression on his face as if he was making it clear that he was superior and was shaming the broom into obeying him. It jumped into his hand instantly.

"Very good, Holmes." Madam Hooch praised, though Sherlock didn't seem to find his achievement all that commendable. Feeling the need to match him in order to better earn his respect, Molly spoke to her broom as commandingly as she could muster.

"Up." To her surprise, the broom leapt into her grasp. This succeeded in getting Sherlock's attention as he raised his dark eyebrows at her. Clearly he was just as surprised as she was.

"Wonderful, Hooper." Molly grinned at Madam Hooch's compliment and watched as she went over to Gilderoy, who had been smacked in the face by his own broom, and the girl's expression became a sympathetic one.

"See, Molly? He's not on your level." Sherlock commented flatly. Molly scowled deeply at him for this.

"Don't say things like that, Sherlock." She scolded. Before Sherlock could respond, Madam Hooch spoke again to the entire class.

"Right. Now that most of you have succeeded in summoning your broomsticks," She paused to prompt those who had been less successful to go ahead and pick up their brooms, "mount them and on the count of three, I want you all to lightly push off from the ground. The goal is to hover for at least five minutes. Is that clear?" The class gave murmurs of affirmation. "Three...two...one..." They all pushed off from the ground. Sherlock did it like it was the most natural and ordinary thing in the world and began hovering a few feet in the air. It took Molly a couple of tries before she was able to follow suit. One Ravenclaw girl had evidently been trying a little too hard because she went shooting off across the training ground, screaming all the way. "Oh, dear..." Madam Hooch sighed before pursuing the poor girl. Fortunately, her only injury was a sprained ankle, but she had to sit out for the rest of the class period. Madam Hooch had wanted to take her to see Madam Pomfrey, but the girl had insisted she stay to observe the rest of the lesson. This seemed to earn her the respect of her fellow Ravenclaws, even Sherlock to some small degree.

By the time the class ended and Molly was back on her feet, her body was still humming with excitement of flying. After dinner that evening, she met up with John in the library and gushed to him about it. He would be having his first flying lesson the following morning and he was growing almost as excited as she had been.

"Have you read Quidditch Through the Ages?" the Gryffindor boy asked as he pulled out his copy of the book. "I really want to try out for a Chaser position on my house's team next year."

"Yeah, I read it. Quidditch seems like fun, but I don't know if I'd be good at any of the positions." Molly admitted with a sad smile. She also didn't have money with which to buy herself a broomstick and she didn't think Mycroft would be willing to spring for one on her behalf. John started on what sort of broom he'd like while Molly wondered if Sherlock was at all interested in Quidditch. He would probably be quite good at it, given how natural flight seemed to him. As if Molly's thoughts were some sort of summoning charm, the boy himself appeared from behind a bookshelf, a curious expression on his face. She was about to call to him, but he went back to whatever he had been doing before his attention had been drawn to them.

Over the course of a few weeks, it became clear that Sherlock was not particularly interested in friendship or indeed any kind of interaction with others. Molly only ever saw him outside of class in the library, reading book after book. For the most part, Molly and John let him be, though they did manage to convince him to attend the first Quidditch match of the year, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, which had been set very early due to some training both teams had been doing before the start of term. Molly was surprised to see that the game was actually holding Sherlock's attention, although the only thing he seemed interested in was the location of the Snitch. If Molly asked where it was, he always knew. He even knew who was going to catch the Snitch before it even happened. When the commentator announced that Slytherin had won the match a minute later, Molly gaped.

"How did you know? Those Seekers were shoulder to shoulder."

"Surely it was obvious." Sherlock replied simply before disappearing in the crowd of people leaving the stands. Molly was left to comfort John over his house's loss.

As Halloween fast approached, Molly and John began to notice that Sherlock was growing colder and more distant with them. John's attitude on the subject was that since the Ravenclaw boy didn't appear to be interested in spending time with them, they shouldn't force their presence on him. Molly didn't think that was quite what was going on. Sherlock still made a point to sit with her in class. If he didn't like her, wouldn't he avoid her? Then there was the fact that she'd only seen him at a few meals in recent weeks. He clearly hadn't been eating. Meena told her not to worry as Sherlock was probably just forgetting to eat because he was so absorbed in his books.

On Halloween, it became clear that both John and Meena had been wrong. That afternoon, Sherlock walked with Molly to their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He was telling her about how Basil was too quick for any of the cats living in Ravenclaw Tower when a much older Ravenclaw boy very purposefully bumped into Sherlock, nearly knocking the smaller boy off his feet and causing him to drop his books.

"Watch where you're going, you little freak," the older student sneered as he passed. Molly immediately bent down to help Sherlock pick up his things.

"I can do it myself." He told her sharply. "I don't need your help." He snatched his copy of _A History of Magic_ from her hands and quickly got to his feet to briskly walk away. Molly followed after him silently, knowing better than to question him about what had just happened.

In class, Molly took her usual seat next to Sherlock and decided to try to get his mind off of things while they waited for Professor Hope to appear.

"Will you be at the Halloween Feast tonight?" she asked with a smile.

"Probably not." Molly's smile faltered.

"Why not? There'll be lots of nice things to eat. You're looking really thin, so-"

"You're not my mother." Sherlock snapped, not even looking at the girl beside him.

"No, I'm not, but I am worried about you."

"Worried? Why would you be worried about _me_?" He was looking at her now, meeting her gaze with a very perplexed expression.

"Just promise me that you'll be there tonight, okay? You can even come sit at the Hufflepuff table with me if you like. No one will bother you, I swear." Molly pleaded and Sherlock stared at her blankly for a long moment before responding.

"Very well. I promise." At this, Molly's bright smile returned and they both diverted their attention to Professor Hope, who had just entered the room. John had been right about the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher being an odd fellow. He hobbled about, adjusting his glasses occasionally. He looked at and spoke to people as if he knew things about them that he oughtn't to, as if he knew everyone's worst secrets. His manner had a way of making everyone alert and wary around him. Sherlock said that he was just a sad old widower who wasn't really very frightening.

"Good afternoon, boys and girls. Today, you will be learning the Verdimillious Charm. Can anyone tell me what the Verdimillious Charm does?" Hope began and only Molly raised her hand. "Ms. Hooper?"

"It conjures green sparks, sir."

"Very good. Five points to Hufflepuff for doing the reading. Can anyone _besides Ms. Hooper_ list three practical uses for the Verdimillious Charm?" There was long pause in which no one raised there hand, but then Sherlock spoke up.

"'The Verdimillious Charm is noted to have three main uses. Firstly, to create a signal. Secondly, as a source of light. Thirdly and most importantly, to reveal things hidden by Dark magic.' That is word for word from the text. Honestly, are Molly and I the only people who bother to read anything or are you truly all wasting your time pointlessly chatting with your friends?" All of his fellow students glared at him (with the exception of Molly, who simply sat there looking very uncomfortable), but Professor Hope smiled.

"Ten points to Ravenclaw." This received a negative response from a number of Sherlock's classmates, including fellow Ravenclaws. This puzzled Molly for a minute until she realized that they didn't like how Sherlock had been given points for being insulting. He didn't talk to anyone for the rest of the class and hurried out the moment they were dismissed before Molly could even say anything to him. Her concern for him grew and when evening came and she found herself sitting in the Great Hall, enjoying the feast, it was hard for her to be entertained by the performing choir. Sherlock was nowhere in sight and he'd promised to be there. She began to worry that something had happened to him.

"He's probably just sulking somewhere, thinking you're stupid for trying to get him to come to the feast." Meena told her after noticing how bothered her friend was. Molly fervently shook her head.

"No, Sherlock wouldn't do that. He may be rude and awkward sometimes, but he's honest. He said he'd be here, so he should be here. When he promised John that he'd come to Quidditch, he came. This shouldn't be any different." The brunette insisted and Meena sighed at her.

"Molly, nobody knows what goes on in that boy's head. He's not normal. Don't expect an abnormal person to be so concrete."

"Something is wrong. I'm sure of it. I'm going to look for him. Excuse me." With that, Molly got up. Ignoring Meena's calls for her to come back, she went over to the Gryffindor table to explain the situation to John, who didn't hesitate to come with her.

"Where do you think Sherlock might be?" John asked as they walked through the dark corridors of Hogwarts.

"I don't know. I think we should start with the library. At the very least, Madam Pince can tell us about when she saw Sherlock last." They caught Madam Pince just as she was closing the library to go to the feast.

"I haven't seen Mr. Holmes at all today. Why do you ask?" The woman said in reply to their inquiry about Sherlock. Molly and John exchanged anxious looks.

"We need to find him. We're afraid something might have happened to him." John explained.

"Oh dear! Shall I inform the headmaster of the situation?"

"Yes, I think you should. Thank you, Madam Pince."

Their search continued and they grew more worried with each of Sherlock's usual haunts that they ticked off their list.

"He has to be around somewhere. He can't have just disappeared...can he?" Molly spoke up as the pair walked up the stairs from the dungeons.

"I don-" John was interrupted by being hit in the head with a stick of chalk. "Ah!"

"Silly firsties looking in all the wrong places!" an obnoxious voice called and the pair turned to see a little man in horribly bright, tacky clothing float up to them.

"Oh, Peeves! Hello!" Molly gasped. She'd encountered the poltergeist a few times before. She didn't hate him like so many other people did, even after he'd literally pulled her pigtails the one time. She understood that his mischief was nothing personal most of the time and so she accepted him for what he was. She was just as kind and respectful to him as she was to anyone else. "You say we're looking in the wrong places. Does that mean you know where he is?" Peeves let out a loud cackle and did a loop in the air before answering.

"Sherlywhirly couldn't make it to the party. He's had a hang up with the other brainies and now he's all wet!" the poltergeist cried, cackling again and zooming off through the wall.

"I think Peeves means Sherlock's outside in the rain," John said, his eyes wide. Molly didn't even respond. She dashed off as quickly as she could with the blond boy behind her. They went out of the castle, into the rain. After a few minutes of searching and getting soaked to the bone, John heard a scream and came running to Molly, who had found an unconscious Sherlock hanging by the hood of his robes from a torch holder. Someone had written FREAK on his forehead in black ink that was beginning to leech into the little streams of water running down his face. "Oh God!" John exclaimed, wiping water out of his eyes. "Molly, help me get him down." Together, they freed Sherlock from the torch holder and carried him inside to the Entrance Hall. "I'll get help. Stay here." John disappeared to the Great Hall and soon returned with Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey, and Professor Flitwick behind him as well as a number of curious students. The boy and the four staff members rushed over to Molly and Sherlock.

"Poppy, please take these three to the hospital wing," the headmaster said calmly. "I will stay at the feast and ensure this doesn't cause a commotion." McGonagall helped Madam Pomfrey carry Sherlock, deflecting John and Molly's requests to do it themselves. They were each given a bed in the hospital wing and while Madam Pomfrey cleaned the ink off of Sherlock's face, Molly and John were given very thick, large towels to wrap around themselves. McGonagall and Flitwick waited a little while before questioning the two children, giving them time to calm down and dry off.

"Mr. Watson, would you kindly explain what happened?" the Transfiguration instructor asked softly.

"Well, I was just enjoying the feast when Molly came over and asked me to help her find Sherlock because he wasn't there. We looked all over the castle, but we couldn't find him anywhere. We were coming up from the dungeons when Peeves more or less told us that Sherlock was outside, so we went out and found him hung up by his hood."

"Did Peeves say anything else?"

"Yeah, he said Sherlock 'had a hang up with the other brainies'. What do you think that means?"

"It means fellow Ravenclaws did this to Mr. Holmes." Professor Flitwick replied gravely. "We won't know who until he wakes up." As if on cue, Madam Pomfrey announced that Sherlock had opened his eyes.

"Where am I?" he groaned, trying to sit up. The nurse eased him back into a lying position.

"Relax. You're in the hospital wing, dear. Can you remember what happened to you?" Sherlock went silent with thought for a minute, but then he became panicked.

"I can't...I can't remember! Why am I here?! What happened!? I can't remember! Why can't I remember!?" Sherlock tried to spring out of the bed, but his movements were uncoordinated and he was unsuccessful due to Madam Pomfrey grabbing his flailing arms and holding him still.

"You are the unfortunate victim of a particularly vicious bullying incident." Dumbledore spoke, announcing his presence. "You were found hanging unconscious in the rain with 'FREAK' written on your forehead. The students who did this to you clearly attempted to cover their tracks by modifying your memory." For the first time, Molly and John saw Sherlock look utterly out of sorts. He was shaking, his eyes wide with trauma. All traces of the usually calm and confident boy they knew were temporarily gone. "The matter will be promptly investigated and when the perpetrators are caught, they will be punished accordingly, but we won't trouble you with anymore questions tonight. All three of you are excused from tomorrow morning's classes. Try to get some rest." Dumbledore wished them goodnight and he and the other two professors left the hospital wing. While Madam Pomfrey disappeared to fetch pumpkin juice for her patients, John and Molly moved over to Sherlock's bed and enveloped him in their arms. Initially, he stiffened at their touch, he slowly relaxed as it dawned on him for the first time that these two were his friends, truly and properly, and that they genuinely _cared_ about him.

"Thank you." he muttered to them, putting his trembling arms around both John and Molly.

**A/N: ...and now our trio is concrete. I put lots of little things in this chapter to notice, so I hope you have fun with that. I swear I'll try to be quicker with the next chapter, but I can't promise anything. Thank you for our time and consideration. ~T.Z.**


	4. Cold Winds Bring Cold Deeds

**A/N: Hey there! Thank you all for the wonderful support! I'm very pleased with myself for getting this to you faster than the last update. I hope it lives up to your expectations. Enjoy!**  


**WARNING: This chapter contains implied poisoning and bullying.**

Chapter 4: Cold Winds Bring Cold Deeds

It didn't take very long at all for the news of what had happened to spread through the school. By the following afternoon, everyone knew that Sherlock Holmes was the victim who was being whispered about. Some people found the whole thing rather amusing, while others were horrified by it.

As soon as they were all done with classes, the three first years went out to sit by the lake and avoid the stares of their peers. Molly showed up with food, which they divided amongst each other. They talked quietly and ate while they watched the waves on the lake.

"How are you feeling, Sherlock?" Molly asked. The dark haired boy nibbled at the end of a dinner roll before answering.

"Fine. I'm starting to piece things together a little, not from memory but from what evidence I can see. I have an idea of who may have attacked me."

"Who?"

"Their names would be meaningless to you. They're much older students. Some boys who happen to be unacquainted with my brother."

"Have you told Professor Flitwick?" John put in after consuming a leg of chicken rather quickly. Sherlock shook his head.

"No, but I will speak with him tomorrow about it." The other two took this as their cue to drop the subject and pick up talk of something else.

"Hufflepuff vs. Ravenclaw on Saturday. Looks like you'll have to choose a side, John."

"I honestly don't care who wins the Cup as long as it's not Slytherin." the Gryffindor replied with a laugh. "I heard that the Ravenclaw team's captain is a good Keeper."

"Victor Trevor? Yes, he is rather good."

"You know him?"

"Victor is one of the few people around here worth talking to. He knows my brother. Apparently Mycroft asked him to look out for me." Sherlock explained casually. Despite his manner, the other two knew such words were a high compliment.

"Was he that boy I saw you talking to at the Welcoming Feast?" Molly put in after making a realization.

"Very observant of you, Molly," Sherlock said with a small smile and the girl blushed. It was nice to see him in such a positive mood given how shaken up he'd been the previous night. Their evening went on quite companionably and Molly and John discovered that Sherlock could be very funny when he was in the mood. When it was time for them to head back inside, though, he grew serious. "Thank you both."

"For what?" John asked, puzzled. Sherlock adjusted his scarf and looked away awkwardly.

"For being...different." Then they understood and from the looks on their faces, Sherlock knew it. It didn't need be said. They each cracked a grin and walked back to the castle together.

Molly headed for the basement while the boys went up the stairs toward their respective towers. She felt content, like everything had been resolved. Unfortunately, this period of complete happiness didn't last long. Little did she know that something was brewing that would shape the rest of their year and she was going first learn of it very soon.

The next morning at breakfast, Molly was eating a bit of toast and watching as owls soared in to deliver mail to other people. She'd gotten used to owls by now and just liked to look at them. She never expected one to drop a sealed envelope on her plate. For a moment, she simply stared at the thing, shocked. The seal was blue wax stamped with what looked like a family crest. She swore she'd seen it somewhere before. Slowly, she picked it up and examined it, turning it over to find that her name was written on it with dark blue ink in a very neat, elegant hand.

"Well, go on, open it, Molly." Meena urged, looking a bit excited by the fact that someone wealthy had obviously sent the letter.

"W-Who would write to m-me?" Molly carefully broke the seal and opened the envelope. Inside was a neatly folded leaf of parchment which read:

_Dear Ms. Hooper,_

_ I hope you have adjusted well to life at Hogwarts and that you are enjoying your classes. It can be difficult for Muggleborns sometimes, but I have faith that you are very capable of adapting._

_ I would ask how my brother has been doing, but given the letter I recently received from Dumbledore, I can already see that he has been having a very difficult time. Please understand that the very idea that someone touched his mind will be horrifying to him. Anything you can do to brighten Sherlock's life would be much appreciated as there is little I can do for him myself._

_ On a lighter note, congratulations on your sorting into Hufflepuff. I initially expected that you would be a Ravenclaw, but from what I've heard about you, perhaps it is not so bad that I was wrong. Dumbledore has noted your actions on Halloween to be quite admirable and I'm inclined to agree._

_Sincerely,_

_Mycroft Holmes_

_P.S.- If you wish to send a reply, simply give your letter to Diogenes. He will know where to find me._

After she finished reading, Molly looked up at the large horned owl that had perched itself on the edge of the table. Its posture was rather proud and she realized that this had to be Mycroft's owl, who he had apparently named Diogenes.

"That's a really lovely owl." Meena commented. "Who sent it?"

"Sherlock's brother." Molly replied and the other girl's jaw dropped.

"You are really lucky to be sponsored by such a well off wizarding family."

"Um, I want to write Mycroft a letter back and he says to give any reply to Diogenes here, but I don't want to-"

"Oh, he'll go to the Owlery while he waits for you to give him your letter, don't worry." Meena assured the first year girl with a smile.

"Oh, I see. Thanks." Molly folded up the letter and stowed it in her pocket before finishing her breakfast and getting up to leave the hall. Sherlock and John caught up with her and the former eyed her suspiciously. "What it is, Sherlock?"

"Mycroft's written you a letter."

"Yes...how did you know?"

"I saw Diogenes fly over to you and there is a slight bulge in your robe pocket. What did he say?" The boy spoke rapidly, blue gaze locked firmly on Molly, who scowled.

"That's hardly your business, is it?" The look Sherlock gave her made her sigh and roll her eyes before handing him the letter. She wished she understood why the brothers had such an aversion to direct contact with one another.

"Why's Sherlock's brother writing you, Molly, if you don't mind me asking?" John piped up with a frown. He didn't know much about the other Holmes brother besides the fact that Sherlock didn't get on too well with him.

"Don't be fooled. It may seem like Mycroft's showing kindness and concern, but he's manipulating you, Molly." Sherlock answered with a sniff before Molly even opened her mouth. He handed her her letter back and she took it while still scowling.

"Woah, that's a bit harsh. Why would he do that?" John questioned as they went up a moving staircase.

"Believe me, it's not. My brother's fresh out of Hogwarts and he's already a Ministerial Aid. What kind of person do you think it takes to achieve that?"

"A Slytherin?"

"Ha, I'd love to see his face if he heard you say that. No, he's not after power, he just likes _knowing_ things, particularly about people and what they're up to, and he's very good at finding them out."

"Wait, so he wants information from Molly?"

"Oh good, you follow."

"Not really."

"Isn't it obvious? He wants her to be one of his little spies, reporting to him about everything I do." Sherlock drawled, an expression of mild distaste on his features. "It won't be long before you get a letter from him as well, John."

"Oh." the blond boy breathed, his eyebrows raised. The trio turned a corner and nearly tripped over a Ravenclaw girl with a pink flower in her hair who was lying facedown on the floor, unconscious. Molly gasped loudly and covered her mouth with her hand. John immediately knelt down to see if the girl was still alive. "She's breathing, but only just. Come on, help me carry her." The three of them lifted the girl and hurried with her as quickly as they could to the hospital wing.

"Madam Pomfrey, we've got someone in dire need of a Bezoar!" Sherlock called, which succeeded in very quickly summoning the Healer with a Bezoar in her hand. The three students hastily lay the unconscious girl on one of the beds and Madam Pomfrey administered the Bezoar. Within moments, the poisoned girl was awake and emptying her stomach into a pail. "We're lucky to have found her when we did. A few more moments and she'd have been dead."

"Indeed and Professor Slughorn will be very proud to know that you remembered the Bezoar." Madam Pomfrey replied as she rubbed the sick girl's back. "I suggest all three of you go straight to the Headmaster's office and inform him of what's happened. I'll take care of Ms. Wilson here." Without further ado, the three hurried to the third floor to find the gargoyle that marked the entrance of Dumbledore's office.

"Oh dear, can either of you remember the password? I've forgotten already." Molly worried as they stopped in front of the sculpted figure. She hadn't thought they'd need to know it again in a hurry, so she hadn't put any effort into remembering it.

"It's Choco-Loco," Sherlock said and the gargoyle moved, allowing them entry. Once inside the headmaster's office, they waited patiently for the man to appear. All the while, the examined the room and its many curious objects. They hadn't really gotten the chance the last time they had been here only a few days ago. Sherlock seemed particularly interested in the books on the shelves while John and Molly became mesmerized by the beautiful bird that was peering at them from its perch.

"It's a Phoenix." John gasped in awe. "The core of my wand is a Phoenix feather. I wonder if it knows." The scarlet bird chirped at the blond boy and he stared in shock. Had it just given him an affirmative?

"I didn't expect to see you three here again so soon." The eleven year olds' attention was immediately commanded by the man who had entered the room.

"Professor!" Molly squeaked as she spun around to face the headmaster.

"Hello, Ms. Hooper. What is it you and your friends have come to see me about? You haven't gotten yourselves into trouble, have you?" Dumbledore spoke calmly and it had the effect of putting the students at ease.

"Oh, no, Headmaster, we aren't in trouble. We came to tell you that we found a girl lying unconscious in a second floor corridor." The girl explained. "We took her to the hospital wing just in time to stop her from dying."

"We think she was poisoned, sir." Sherlock added.

"This is a very serious matter. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. I shall inform the staff immediately of what has happened." The subjects of the portraits on the walls seemed to have been listening in, because a few of them went rushing out of their pictures, presumably off to spread the word of what had taken place. "For your quick thinking, I award each of your houses 30 points."

"Thank you, sir." John responded, suppressing a grin.

"It is I who must be grateful to you, Mr. Watson. You have saved a young girl's life. Now, I must ask that you three continue about your day and refrain from speaking of this incident to any of your fellow students. I think it best that you not draw further attention to yourselves."

"We understand."

"Then I bid you good day." Dumbledore finalized with a small smile. The students turned to the door to leave, but paused when the headmaster called to John. "His name is Fawkes, by the way." The Gryffindor frowned in bewilderment. "The Phoenix." Dumbledore clarified and John beamed. Saying their goodbyes to both the headmaster and the bird, the three left the office.

"Come on. Let's head out to the Quidditch Pitch." John suggested and taking his friends' lack of objections as agreement, led the way.

All through the game, they heard whispers from people wondering where Dumbledore and a few of the other teachers were. A brunette girl asked Sherlock if he'd seen Jennifer Wilson. Despite the headmaster''s request, he was honest and told her that Jennifer was in the hospital wing.

Immediately after Hufflepuff won the match, Sherlock dragged his friends back to the castle. Or rather, he ran and they tried to keep up (he was rather fast for such a small fellow). They followed him to the second floor where they'd found Jennifer Wilson that morning.

"Sherlock, what are we doing here?" John inquired as he tried to catch his breath.

"Don't you want to know how and why Jennifer was poisoned?"

"Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean it's our business."

"Dumbledore didn't say we couldn't investigate. He just told us not to say we're involved." The dark haired boy then proceeded to kneel down so that he could examine the floor more closely.

"That's not quite what I meant." John replied with a frown. Seeing that Sherlock would not be swayed from this path, the Gryffindor decided to indulge him. "So what are we looking for anyway?"

"Anything that may have been left behind by Jennifer. Her body was lying in this direction, so obviously she was coming from the direction of the third floor when she collapsed. She doesn't appear to have left anything, so let's see if we can retrace her steps." Sherlock spoke and moved quickly, almost making it difficult for the other two to keep up with him. He sprang up and dashed off in the direction of the stairs to the third floor. "Some people might say that she was coming down from Ravenclaw Tower for breakfast, but that can't be that case. She wouldn't have come this way if it were. She was stopping off somewhere."

"Where, though?" Molly asked, bewildered. The short boy's dark eyebrows knitting together and he appeared to be thinking hard for a moment before answering.

"I'm afraid that's something we can't determine without further information. When Jennifer Wilson gets out of the Hospital wing, we'll have to question her." Without another word, Sherlock altered his course to the library. Since the trail had gone cold, he clearly wasn't going to devote much further thought to the matter until he'd spoken to Jennifer. The three of them didn't even mention the poisoning incident to each other again for a long while, though the rest of the school continued to talk about it for weeks. Jennifer Wilson was still terribly ill as the Holidays approached and so none of them had been able to talk to her. Whether the issue was even still floating about in Sherlock's mind, Molly had no idea. Not long after the incident had taken place, something else distracted Molly and her friends. That something was an article in a copy of the Daily Prophet that she observed Sherlock reading one evening.

From across their table in the library, Molly could see that the headline read "Controversy Over Newly Appointed Minister of Magic" and there was a picture of a gangly man with a tired expression on his face. He waved shyly from his picture and it made Molly wonder why anyone would have a problem with such a kind looking man.

"Sherlock, what's that about?" she queried and the top half of the paper flopped down to reveal the Ravenclaw's inquiring look.

"Hm?"

"That man on the front, why do people have a problem with him?"

"Oh, Nobby Leach? He's the first Muggleborn Minister we've had. A lot of idiotic traditionalist Purebloods are whining about it." Sherlock drawled. The matter obviously didn't interest him very much.

"May I borrow your Daily Prophet?" This appeared to elicit conflicted feelings in the boy. For a moment, he simply stared at her blankly as if he was having difficulty deciding how to respond. Eventually, he folded the newspaper and slid it over to Molly, expression still neutral.

"I was done with it anyway." He told her flatly. It puzzled Molly as to why Sherlock was behaving so oddly about it. At least, it seemed odd to her. It wasn't until she read the article that she had any inkling why.

The next morning as she exited History of Magic, she took the copy of the Daily Prophet from her bag and sat on a bench by a brazier to read it. The farther she got in the article, the bigger the knot in her stomach seemed to grow. So this was how many people in the magical world felt about people like her? They saw Muggleborns as weak, unworthy, lesser people? Apparently a third of the Wizengamot walked out upon the new Minister's appointment. Molly had a substantial enough knowledge of wizarding government by now to know that this was a huge deal. Before she could learn what Abraxas Malfoy had to say on the subject, the paper was snatched from Molly's hands by a thin, dark haired Slytherin girl. She looked at what Molly had been reading and scoffed.

"A Mudblood playing at being Minister. He should be thrown out." she spat, with particular disgusted emphasis on the word 'Mudblood'.

"I don't see anything wrong with him." Molly stated defiantly and the Slytherin glared. "Please give that back." She held her hand out for the newspaper, but the girl didn't relinquish it. A few other Slytherins came up to see what was going on and Molly guessed that they were this girl's friends.

"She's one of them." one boy hissed.

"Yeah, show her her place, Bellatrix." another goaded. The girl now identified as Bellatrix drew her wand to point it at Molly, who did the same, holding it in a defensive position.

"Give it back and leave me alone." Incredulous at this, Bellatrix fired a jinx at Molly the knocked her onto her hands and knees and caused her to drop her wand, which was kicked down the corridor by one of the girl's friends.

"How dare you speak to me like that! How dare you even hold a wand in your hand, you filthy Mudblood!" Bellatrix kicked Molly over and threw the Daily Prophet at her before leaving with her cackling cronies. For a moment, Molly just lay there, curled up on the floor, fighting the urge to cry from physical and emotional pain. She was spotted a minute later by a trio of slightly older Gryffindor students down the corridor.

"Are you okay?" one of them called and Molly groaned. They rushed to her side and a pair of redheaded twins helped her to her feet.

"Th-Thank you." Molly murmured and a redheaded girl handed her her bag, her wand, and Sherlock's Daily Prophet.

"Don't mention it. What's your name?" the girl replied.

"Molly Hooper."

"Oh! My name's Molly too. Molly Prewett. These are my brothers Gideon and Fabian."

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," the boys said in unison.

"Bellatrix Black got you then, didn't she? She's a real piece of work, that one. She bullies Muggleborns at every opportunity, even ones older than her, and she's only a first year. She's a disgrace of a witch if you ask me." The other Molly ranted, brushing dust off the Hufflepuff's robes. "Come on, let's get you to lunch." The three Prewetts then escorted Molly to the Great Hall where she thanked them again and went to join Meena at the Hufflepuff table.

"Are you alright, Molly? You look like you've seen something horrible."

"I'm fine." Molly lied, grabbing a sandwich, though she didn't have hardly any appetite at this point.

That afternoon in Potions when Molly handed Sherlock back his Daily Prophet, their gazes met and she could tell from the look in his eyes that he knew what had happened to her. Of course he did, with his brilliant way of figuring things out. As the lesson went on, she noticed more and more that his usual blunt statements had lost some of their bite. She wondered if it was his way of showing sympathy. That thought made her feel just a little bit better and allowed her to hold off on crying until she was in her dorm that night.

**A/N: Welp. A lot of familiar people got introduced here and you learned that John's wand is not Sherlock's wand's brother (sorry people who guessed it was John's). You've also gotten to see a slightly softer side to Sherlock now that he's become friends with Molly and John. The next chapter will bring Molly's first Christmas as a witch and some fluffiness.**


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